a box still full

‘i meant to give her these last week,’ he said quietly and to himself, sliding the lid from a white box containing a pair of small pearl earrings.

he exhaled through his nostrils, his shoulders slumping in time with the exhalation.

he held the now open box, top forgotten on the coffee table over which he stood, shins close to one corner, eyes washing over the pearls, as if expecting them to move, speak, advise.

they caught well the light of the room,

but the earrings did not speak.

he leaned over, left hand fumbling for the box top, eyes still on the pair of pearls.

stubborn, they were,

and silent they remained

though perfect, he hoped, for her.

‘this week,’ he said still quietly, placing the lid over the pearls.

he inhaled  through his nostrils, his shoulders rising  in time with the inhalation.

‘this week,’ he said more firmly.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s